Seize The Fire
by arisapphyre
Summary: Twelve districts. Twenty four tributes. One winner. This is going to be messy.
1. The Reaping

**A/N:** Hey guys! I know it's been a while... Hahaha, oops.

Anyways, this is quite different from my usual stuff, but I still thought it'd be worth a shot. I'd written this a while back, and if it wasn't for my super awesome Beta, **_Checkmate13_ ** (who kept reminding me about this even after I'd forgotten it exists) and the crazy talented **_BlessYourStar21_ ** (who actually motivated me enough to make me get my lazy butt in gear and write) this would have never seen the light of day.

(Please read the note at the end of the chapter once you're done)

 **Summary:** Twelve districts. Twenty four tributes. One winner. This is going to be messy.

 **Warnings:** Hunger Games AU, Language, Drama, Adventure, Violence, Attempted Humor, Probable Pairing Possibilities (Somewhere Along The Way...).

 **Disclaimer:** Pfft... please. Me? Own Fairy Tail? As if.

* * *

"To hold a people in oppression, you have to convince them first that they are supposed to be oppressed." - John Henrik Clarke.

* * *

 ** _District_** **_1, Male Tribute_**

Sting stands in the audience, trying to calm his nerves as he awaits the announcement. Excitement bubbles within him, threatening to spill over and send him into a fit of glee. The only thing that prevents him from doing so is the useless stream of sentences about the greatness of Fiore that roll off the district escort's silver-glossed lips. Like he gives a shit about their country's goddamn history, or the old geezer they have as president.

All he wants to do is go into the arena and fight. Kill. Bring glory to his district. He's been waiting for this chance for years and if that district escort of theirs doesn't pull out his name this year he just might have to–

"Sting Eucliffe." He stops his train of thought the moment he hears his name.

Finally.

He's finally going into the arena.

District 1, being a Career district, definitely trains its children in preparation for the annual games. And as far as anyone is concerned, there has never been any rigging involved, but sometimes, Sting could almost swear that the higher ups got to select the tributes beforehand.

It is the only thing that explains why, for the last ten years, academy graduates with the highest training scores were the ones who got sent to the arena. It all seemed too lucky, too perfect. Too calculated.

Sting may not be a very intellectual individual, but that doesn't mean he's stupid. He is definitely sure that come hell or high water, he and that bloodthirsty girl in his class, Minerva, will be the ones heading into the arena this year.

That's why, as soon as his name is mentioned, he stares straight at the camera aimed at him and stretches his lips into a sadistic smile.

* * *

 ** _District 1, Female Tribute_**

Minerva raises a brow as she watches Sting saunter up on stage. The bastard looks happy, something that most of their classmates, sans her of course, have learned to fear upon sight. Their district always has volunteers, but she knows that if anyone does that for the blond boy on stage right now they'd better _not_ make it out of the arena alive- because if they do, then Sting would personally gut them when they returned home. Consequences be damned.

When the female's name is called, Minerva is surprised to find that it isn't her. Sting had once mentioned a theory about top students being selected, but she didn't care about that. Her father is a victor, having won in one of the most memorable games to date, and having finally turned eighteen, she knows for a fact that for her, going into the arena this year is a given.

Very few victors opt to have children, and the ones that do, should be prepared for constant monitoring, no matter what district they hail from. She knows that the Capitol has been watching her, ever since she was a mere baby, waiting for the chance to see if she'd be just as great as her father or not.

She mentally scoffs. She has every intention of showing them just how much more powerful she is. She'll bring District 1 pride the likes of which they've never seen.

"I volunteer." She says without preamble. This is what the cameras want, her father has always told her so. He'd done the same in his Games so the Capitol crowd must definitely want to see something similar from her.

Bypassing the girl whose moment she's just stolen, she walks to the stage, and stands a few feet away from her fellow tribute. She inwardly relishes at the sight of the seething girl glaring at her with rage.

Minerva bets she – what is her name again? Kagura? – wishes she'd die in the bloodbath for taking her chance at bringing her district glory.

Ha, good luck with that.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Sting smirking at her. His theory may have been wrong, but the results are still the same. Ever the good sportsman, she turns to him and returns the gesture despite having already started devising the best way to kill him if they are the last two standing. A small part of her feels sad, numb even, at the thought of Sting's death, but that doesn't really matter.

Only one of them is going to walk out of the arena and she'd be damned if it isn't her.

* * *

 ** _District 2, Female Tribute._**

Erza barely reacts when her name is the one called. She has been training for this moment since learning to walk. As she reaches the stage she levels the crowd with a stone-cold glare, stopping the onslaught of 'I volunteer' before it even begins. She isn't known as Titania for nothing.

This is her moment, this is her time.

She doesn't intend to let them go to the games in her stead.

She will play her part.

She will make the Capitol proud.

That is the first thing the training center has taught her, and if anything, Erza Scarlet always follows the rules.

After all, they are there for a reason.

So when the district escort fishes around the bowl on the male side, and pulls out a lone slip to read out the name of the boy who she'd have to watch die, or probably kill – depending on the circumstances – she schools her features with the cold mask of indifference she's perfected over the years.

"Shô Etherion."

Her mask crumbles at the mention of the boy, but just as quickly, she returns her expression to that of aloofness.

 _No_. She mentally rages. Anyone but him. Anyone but the young boy who trudges around after her in the academy, calling her 'Big Sis', idolizing and fawning over her as if she were some sort of celebrity. Anyone but the boy who's not even halfway through training yet. He's still too small, too young. Too inexperienced. He'd be lucky to make it past the bloodbath, let alone reach the final five as is expected of District 2 tributes.

When Erza feels pain strike her, sharp and piercing, deep within her chest; she tells herself it's because she's disappointed. It's because such a thing happening will be disgraceful for the district. It most definitely is not because of knowing that Shô, one of the few people she has ever been able to stand, will most definitely be marching to his own death.

The poor boy is only thirteen, and he hasn't even hit his growth spurt yet. Sending him to the arena is – dare she say it? – borderline cruel. Even though she is not supposed to question the Capitol, she is starting to think that-

"I volunteer."

Erza barely has time to be thankful that Shô's life has been spared before the voice registers in her mind.

No.

 _No._

In a district of no less than 50 thousand people, a rough estimate of 15.72 thousand teenagers, 4.5 thousand of whom were trained Careers, _he_ just had to be the one who volunteered.

He, the one person she knows for certain she'll never be able to kill. And it's not even a matter of strength with him- she owes him her life, and she'd be less than the lowest scum that roamed the earth if she repaid his kindness with a knife to the chest.

Has she no honor at all?

Erza keeps her eyes fixed with his as he walks up to the stage. They are the same warm brown she remembers, gleaming with- she almost reels.

Why doesn't he look at her like an enemy? An opponent he's destined to kill?

She senses his determination, that's for sure. She sees his resolve, but something tells her, none of it is for the Games.

Honor and pride battle within her, and suddenly, Erza isn't looking forward to the Hunger Games anymore.

* * *

 ** _District 2, Male Tribute_**

Jellal really hopes she'll stop staring at him like that.

The moment her name had been called, he knew he'd just have to volunteer.

He has nothing left in this world, and as far as things went around their home district, his life is pretty much not worth living. Sure, most people know it, but he has committed so many sins he's not even sure if he can atone for half of them anymore.

Erza on the other hand, is one of the most pure hearted people he's ever known. Unlike a majority of the people in his district, he truly likes her. She is strict, but kind. Firm yet gentle. The perfect balance between power and humanity. She is the opposite of the manipulative tactician he once was. He'd always thought that being like that was the right way- after all, that was what the Career training center taught them. But after his twisted mind games had led to the death of over forty four classmates no more than seven years ago, he's nearly had a break down. He'd been spared only because no one had known he'd been involved, but that alone had been enough to risk losing his mind.

Meeting Erza had been the only thing that prevented that from happening.

She has so much to come back to, he thinks. Jellal can't possibly imagine her being killed in the Games. She may be strong, but District 2 hasn't had a victor in three years. And it's not like he doesn't believe in her, because he does. He really does. He knows she can do it, he knows she can win, but there is that tiny part that whispers the dreadful, 'What if? What then?'

District 1 tributes have always been the backstabbers, matters of honor only being followed by a select few. If the alliance breaks, he knows they'll be after her immediately.

He wasn't going to let her go in alone. She is strong, but she needs someone to watch her back. Several years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of entering the games in order to help someone else, but now, not so much.

When the announcer called out Shô's name, he knew for a fact that he had to volunteer. He's never believed in fate or karma, or whatever it was his ancestors used to believe in, but now, he's starting to think that maybe such a thing really does exists.

If he hadn't already made up his mind about volunteering, his surrogate brother's name being the slip pulled out most definitely would have.

As he heads to the stage, he almost laughs. He must be the first District 2 tribute who's ever volunteered with the sole purpose of dying for his partner.

* * *

 ** _District 3, Male Tribute_**

Hibiki nearly collapses when they call out his name.

Of all the people...

So, this is how he was meant to die?

Great.

Just great.

* * *

 ** _District 3, Female Tribute_**

Wendy tries, she really does, but she can't stop the tears that flow as she walks up to the stage.

One look at her district partner and she knows, _she just knows_ , neither of them are going to make it out of the arena alive.

She can only hope their deaths would be quick and painless.

* * *

 ** _District 4, Female Tribute_**

Juvia isn't surprised when her name is called and no one offers to volunteer. She is the Rain-Woman, always bringing a shower of rain wherever she goes. In a district where fishing is the main industry, and spending time in the ocean is a necessity, she can see why such a person would be wanted gone. People can only handle storms for so long.

She doesn't cry, or sniffle though. Apathy is her best friend when it comes to handling the public, so she controls her features and stares at everyone else as if she could barely care less.

She doesn't really love her life, but she isn't just going to give up and die.

She is going to fight, and if by some miracle, she makes it back, well...

She'll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

* * *

 ** _District 4, Male Tribute_**

His adoptive mother, Ul, is a victor. She'd been seventeen when she'd been reaped for her Games.

His adoptive sister, Ultear, became a victor five years ago. She'd been seventeen, just like her mother.

His adoptive brother, Lyon, became a victor last year when he was – surprise, surprise – seventeen.

Even the dumbest person on Earth could see the pattern there. Now that he is seventeen, he knows that unlike Four's female tribute, who most definitely is not a trained Career like he is, the Capitol is just waiting to see his move. Victor's children are always monitored, and he is no different. Some of them are usually lucky, but most of them have to live with the fear of knowing the Capitol would find a way to get them into the Arena before eighteen.

That's not something he likes to think about, but Gray knows that with a history like his, even though his name is not called, he is still the one the Capitol wants to see.

Very well.

He doesn't miss a beat once the boy's name is called.

"I volunteer."

* * *

 ** _District 5, Male Tribute_**

Laxus hates many things. His neighbor's noisy dog, his neighbor, clingy ex-girlfriends, the stupid lightning rods that line almost every building in the district (those shitty sticks always seemed to fuck stuff up when he's practicing his magic) and most importantly, the Games.

He always thought they were stupid: 'Your ancestors screwed up, so now you pieces of shit have to send your children off to die every year for the rest of eternity- and be happy because this is justice.'

Bullshit.

Over seventy years of this crap and nobody has had the balls to fight back? Seriously, the whole nation must be filled with nothing but cowards. At least those in Thirteen had been brave enough to rebel back in the day. Of course they had been blown sky high, but he still admires them. Death is better than living as someone's puppet.

So, when his name is called, he is just as surprised as he is pissed.

If his grandfather hadn't been a well-known and highly respected victor, he might have flipped the Capitol off when the cameras aimed his way.

This was supposed to be his last year. Just one more fucking day of feeling the wretched panic as the district escort reaches for the name slips, and he was going to be home free. But now this?

It seems that the Capitol has one wry sense of humor.

It isn't enough that his grandfather is the district's only living mentor because apparently, the Capitol wants more. He has to participate too.

Nobody could tell him the Games this year haven't been rigged.

He may not be a Career, but dammit, he has trained just as good as any of them- which is saying a lot considering his birthplace is Five. It may not be a hell-hole like Twelve, but there must definitely be something wrong with them if their district has only produced two victors in the span of seventy-six years.

Oh well. He might as well screw with the Capitol, fight his way through, and if he plays his cards right, make it out alive.

* * *

 ** _District 5, Female Tribute_**

"Lucy Heartfilia."

Lucy remains motionless, stunned into stillness as her name rolls off of the announcer's tongue. A heavy weight settles over her chest, knocking every ounce of breath from her. The words ring inside her head, over and over again, but the processing is yet to complete.

 _Lucy Heartfilia._

No.

 _Lucy Heartfilia._

She must have heard wrong.

 _Lucy Heartfilia._

There are people beside – no wait, behind – her, grabbing hold of her blouse, her arms, trying to pull her up to her feet, and it's only then that she realizes she's fallen to her knees. There are looks of pity on some of their faces as they regard her, but she can tell that all of them are glad it wasn't their own name that was picked.

She doesn't blame them for thinking so.

There is dead silence across the town square as she slowly marches up to the podium. She has never been so terrified. Yet, despite her embarrassing fall earlier, she squares her jaw, holds her head high, and fixes her brown-eyed stare straight ahead.

Images of how she's going to die flit through her mind as she climbs up the stairs, but before the tears of anguish can leave her, she catches sight of Laxus Dreyar, her fellow tribute.

He makes a minute shake of his head, almost as if he knows what is on her mind, and that is the only thing that helps her hold back her sobs. He's right.

The Capitol doesn't deserve to see her pain.

They may not be friends, but considering her sheltered lifestyle, he might as well be the closest thing she has to one. Being the grandson and son of District 5's only victors, Laxus is more or less royalty in their district. Pair that up with the fact that her father is the owner of over fifty percent of the power factories in Five, and it's clear to anyone that the two of them would see each other way more often than other children their own age.

Add in the fact that they both have the same blonde hair, sloped noses and aristocratic features, one could even pass them as siblings.

Either way, that doesn't matter. She is still going to die. With his grandson's life on the line, she doesn't think Makarov Dreyar will even try to teach her how to stay alive.

And the worst part is; she doesn't blame him.

The one time she is reaped is the very same time that the victor's only living family member is reaped as well. Her luck – if she even has any – really does suck.

She stands up on stage, right beside Laxus, and at the escort's instruction, they shake hands.

Lucy is shocked when Laxus gives her hand a quick squeeze. The assurance is unexpected, but no less welcome.

She squeezes back and hopes that he won't be the one who kills her.

* * *

 ** _District 6, Female Tribute_**

Levy McGarden doesn't cry when her name is called out. In fact, she doesn't even feel anything except the cold, hard dread that settles into her gut, paralyzing her from head to toe.

She has always hated reaping day- after all, who doesn't? But there is just something about today, about having her name called out that towers every single emotion she's ever felt regarding the Games.

When her name leaves the District escort's lips, her blood freezes in her veins, and the whole world spins, tilting on its axis. It takes her several seconds to realize she's fallen on the ground. She feels hands grab hold of her, pulling her up, and she barely even has the presence of mind to be grateful.

Walking to the stage, she tries, she hopes, she prays, that she won't cry.

Even if she'll die, she doesn't want the rest of the country to remember her as the crying girl from District 6.

* * *

 ** _District 6, Male Tribute_**

Jet is going to die. Plain and simple.

He is just another one of District 6's sacrifices to the Capitol this year.

He doesn't even bother to delude himself. When his brother, Droy comes and hugs him goodbye in the Justice Building, he knows this will be the last time they see each other.

"Go on a diet bro." He finally says in an attempt to lighten the mood. They have been crying ever since they entered the Justice Building, and with less than two minutes left, he tries to salvage what they've still got. It would be a shame if the last memories they have of each other are just tears and sobs and runny noses.

That just won't do.

His brother aside, his biggest regret would be Levy's death. It is ironic that the one girl he's ever had feelings for is going to be sent to the arena with him as well.

Granted, aside from the one word greetings they gave each other at the train station every morning, they have never really spoken. But that's okay.

Seeing her has always been enough for him anyway.

Now, he doesn't even know how he'll be able to look at her without feeling like his heart's being squeezed into a bloody pulp.

* * *

 ** _District 7, Male Tribute_**

They think he is crazy. They think he is weird. They think he is evil just because he'd rather kick a limping old man, than help him get to the other side of the road.

Well, that's just them.

They're all idiots.

When his name is called, Jackal rushes to the stage, grinning like he's just won the lottery.

This is the chance he's been waiting for. It's amazing how fate works. He's always loved the Games, and now, he can finally be a part of them.

Sweet.

He's going to go down in history as the most powerful victor ever.

* * *

 ** _District 7, Female Tribute_**

Jenny Realight forces herself not to cry, even though she knows it's pointless.

She is dead

She is so dead.

She is deader than dead.

What sort of star combination was she born under to have her name drawn out for the Hunger Games right on her sixteenth birthday?

* * *

 ** _District 8, Male Tribute_**

"Well, time to see who our tributes are!" The district escort announces, finishing off with a laugh as if what she's just said is the most hilarious line on the planet.

Loke frowns.

Nothing about this is funny. How could anyone laugh when twenty three children murder one another on live television every year? Of course, since he can't do anything, he sees no sense in crying over it. He's never actually watched any of the killings during the Games – he's always had the presence of mind to turn the other way right before the final blow is struck – but still, that doesn't make it any less cruel.

It's been a while since he's left the Spirit World, and although this is the first reaping he's actually attended, one can honestly say that he is already sick and tired of it. He's only waiting for this measly hour to pass so he can go home, hopefully with a hot babe who's managed to dodge the bullet as well.

Idly, he checks out the girls in the row closest to him. On normal days, most of them usually flock around him with flirtatious smiles and hungry gazes, however now, they're all wearing similar expressions of fear and worry. That doesn't deter him though. He is still going to be banging one of them tonight.

But who to choose?

He's in the middle of trying to decide whether he should pick the sexy, blue-eyed blonde or the fierce-looking, spunky brunette when the boys around him take in a collective breath.

Wait a second. Has the boy already been called?

Crap, that's bad. It could be someone he knows.

He skilfully morphs his expression into one of grief, just in case the cameras accidentally aim his way, and looks around for the poor sap.

He doesn't find him.

Odd.

Maybe he fainted.

By the time he realizes that almost the entire district is staring at him, his eyes widen and he turns back to the stage.

The district escort repeats the name – his name – and Loke's jaw goes slack. He raises one of his brows and slides his sunglasses down his nose.

"Are you fucking serious?"

Just how the hell did that happen?

* * *

 ** _District 8, Female Tribute_**

Karen Lilica was never meant to die in the games.

She was meant to grow up, make a name for herself in the fashion industry, and hopefully amass a wealth of admirers before she hits thirty. Or forty, because really, she's just that hot.

That's why, when her name is called, she mentally swears out the most colorful stream of curse words she's ever had the chance of stringing out.

Fuck, she isn't meant to die like this.

But wait. Maybe, just maybe, she has a chance at this. She's by no means physically weak, she's always been manipulative, and her charm on the opposite sex is almost as legendary as Angel, one of their victors. If she uses her skills wisely, she is pretty sure she can steer her way through the competition. The only set back seems to be Leo, but that's okay. She will think of something.

Karen holds back a smirk. Yes.

She can make it.

It's been seven years since District 8 has had a victor.

Maybe she can change that.

* * *

 ** _District 9, Female Tribute_**

Flare does not show any emotion when her name is called.

Those in line part as she makes her way to the stage, each of them wearing mournful expressions.

They are clearly unhappy; after all, in their eyes, she is only a child. Sending her off to the Games is basically sending her off to die, but despite their contempt, none of them offers to take her place.

That does not surprise her.

* * *

 ** _District 9, Male Tribute_**

Bacchus is thoroughly, unequivocally pissed.

Enough said.

* * *

 ** _District 10, Female Tribute_**

It is a miracle Lisanna even remains upright after her name is called.

From the distance, she catches sight of her older siblings, who are both over eighteen years old, staring at her with panic and alarm in their eyes.

They both look anguished. Her sister even screams and wails and pushes past the peacekeepers to reach her, but as expected, she is dragged away.

Lisanna's heart breaks at the sight. She knows they would volunteer for her if they could, and it is that knowledge that pains her the most. Why is she always the one causing them problems?

Contorting her features into an emotionless expression, she ascends the stairs leading to the stage.

She won't show her pain. She won't show her fear.

Breaking down now will only torment them.

It isn't much, but at least she will spare them by acting strong.

Her chances may be slim, but maybe she could make it.

* * *

 ** _District 10, Male Tribute_**

Romeo doesn't believe he has been reaped until the district escort repeats his name three times.

By the time the cameras settle on him, he is as white as a sheet, and stiff as a board.

Needless to say, no one thinks he is victor material.

* * *

 ** _District 11, Male Tribute_**

So he'll be going to the Games this year?

Great, just what he needed.

Gajeel Redfox remains stoic as he steadily approaches the stage, the mild alarm that had passed over his features moments ago having been squashed and filed away.

What's done is done.

* * *

 ** _District 11, Female Tribute_**

Yukino almost has a heart attack when her name is called out, but since there isn't anyone that offers to take her place, she remains quiet as she walks up to the stage.

If her eyes burn due to unshed tears, she doesn't notice.

* * *

 ** _District 12, Male Tribute_**

"Zeref Dragneel."

Natsu staggers back, eyes wide, heart pounding ferociously. He tries to take up air, to form words, but his mouth has dried up and his lungs refuse to cooperate. He can barely think straight, let alone comprehend what's happening as his brother heads up the stage.

On some level, deep within his subconscious, he must have known this would happen. Based on the number of tesserae his brother had taken, his name had been in the glass ball a whooping God-knows-how-many time. The chances of Zeref being called were higher than almost every other teen in the district so was it really that surprising that his name was the one that came up?

"I volunteer!" He is on the stage, before he's even aware that his voice is the one carrying across the town square. "I volunteer as tribute!" He repeats, drowning out Zeref's panic-ladened 'No!' with ease. As an added measure, he moves in front of his brother and stretches out his hand, crowding back as if to herd him away from the looming danger. He is sweating profusely, and his whole body is trembling, yet he forces himself to become still out of fear that if they see weakness, they might not take him seriously and still try to place Zeref in the Games.

"You volunteer? Wonderful!" The escort gushes, his gold-tinted skin glimmering under the sun's bright beams. "But I believe there are some protocols we have to finish with first before–"

"No he doesn't!"

Natsu's head whips towards where his brother is standing. His eyes momentarily widen when he catches the terror in his Zeref's eyes. It's only due to his Dragon Slaying powers that Natsu can tell that his brother's heart is drumming wildly. The fear streaming off of him is so thick he can almost taste it, and for a second, he is sad that he's the cause for his brother feeling that way.

Zeref hurriedly moves to stand in front of him, blocking him from the District Escort's view. "Please, wait! He didn't mean it–"

"Like hell." Natsu retorts, pushing his brother aside with more force than he'd originally intended. "I refuse."

"What?" The question is shot at him by both the escort and Zeref, the latter's voice carrying a mixture of panic, fear and exasperation. And despite being quiet, the rest of the district looks just as confused as well.

"Well, this is quite the challenging situation. But to think that both of you have such dedication for the Games!" The escort says, scratching at his glitter-speckled chin. He tries to put up a smile, but Natsu can tell he's at a loss of what to do. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades. No one is even sure what the protocol for such a situation is anymore. And one having finally shown up is nothing short of unbelievable. Whether or not he should accept Natsu's volunteering despite being opposed by the original tribute is probably something that's not even written down in the rule books.

He is dragged from his thoughts when Zeref grabs him by the arm. "Natsu, you fool. Can't you see that–"

Seeing where this is going, Natsu decides that waiting for him to finish will likely cause more problems than necessary. With a single, flame-coated punch, he sends his brother flying straight into the crowd. Normally, Zeref would have dodged, having seen that coming even before Natsu even swung his fist, but with all the fear, panic, and confusion the Dragon Slayer's actions have caused, it's no wonder Zeref's guard was down.

To his surprise, relief rather than guilt rushes through him once he takes note of his brother's unconscious state. For some odd reason, despite volunteering, he doesn't feel scared, at least not for himself. He takes one more cursory look at Zeref, checking to see if he'll be waking up to argue with him anytime soon.

Once he's satisfied, he turns back to the district escort and grins.

"So, where do I stand?"

* * *

 ** _District 12, Female Tribute_**

"And now, time to choose our girl tribute." The escort gushes as he digs into the glass ball. After the whole fiasco with Natsu, he had taken one look at the half-conscious ex-tribute, Natsu's flaming fist and decided that no, he most definitely does not get paid enough for this shit.

So, with slumped shoulders, he'd pointed him towards his designated position and had proceeded to the bowl with the female's names.

All the while, Cana's heart has been logged in her throat. Fear and dread settled in her gut, and she swears that if someone were to slap her, she wouldn't even notice.

The district escort makes a show of fishing through the slips before pulling one out and calling out the name with a ridiculous amount of verve. "Cana Clive!"

Fuck.

She really should have seen that coming.

It isn't enough that she is reaped, but apparently, Natsu, the district's golden boy over there, who is pretty much the very manifestation of indestructible, has to volunteer as well. She might as well just shoot herself right now.

She may be the daughter of a victor but she knows full well that District 12 will be rooting for Natsu to win, which in essence would mean they would be rooting for her death, which of course would lead her to wondering who the hell she'd pissed off in her past life to deserve such a shitty ending.

Of all the girls, it just had to be her.

What's worse is that once she's on stage, Natsu pulls her into a one-armed hug and grins at her, causing almost all her misplaced rage at him to dissipate.

Great. They aren't even in the arena yet and she's already starting to feel like the monster. By the end of the day, she won't be surprised if she ends up rooting _for_ him as well.

She purposely avoids staring at her father though. She's not sure she'll be able hold it together if she catches sight of the despondent look that's sure to be etched on his face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for our tributes from District 12!"

Cana's never been proud of her district, but when the entire crowd remains silent, she can honestly say that that is one of the bravest things she's ever seen. She is aware that their silence is mostly due to the sadness they feel at seeing Natsu go, but that still doesn't change the fact that despite their cheap, worn-out clothes and their gaunt, malnourished frames, they all look sort of badass.

* * *

 **A/N:** And... done! Like I said before, this is quite different from my usual stuff.

Oh, and I know that there are way too many POVs going around right now, however, it's all necessary for the plot. My take on this AU is a little different, and I assure you, the writing style isn't the only reason. Besides, if all goes well, within a chapter or two, once the characters start to meet and interact, the POV shift will start decreasing and everything will sort of just flow... hopefully.

My yapping aside, please don't forget to leave a review before you go :D

(Like, seriously. I'd really love to hear your feedback, guys ^^)


	2. The Train Ride Part I

**A/N** : Hey, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the long-ish wait though... Life sort of got in the way -_-"

Props to the marvelous **_Checkmate13_** who weeded through this chapter and made everything flow. Thanks a bunch, love ^^

 **Summary:** Twelve districts. Twenty four tributes. One winner. This is going to be messy.

 **Warnings:** Hunger Games AU, Language, Drama, Adventure, Violence, Attempted Humor, Probable Pairing Possibilities (Somewhere Along The Way...).

 **Disclaimer:** Lol. I wish.

* * *

"Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all." – Dale Carnegie

* * *

 **District 1, Male Tribute**

Sting flops down on the sofa with barely any regards to manners or conduct. He tunes out his district escort, who is currently berating him for improper behavior.

Whatever.

It's not like he gives a damn.

He reaches out for the remote on the coffee table and turns on the television. It's more like a gigantic screen glued onto the cabin wall, but he isn't in the mood to get all technical about it. All he wants to do is watch the reapings from the other districts.

He doesn't care for the other tributes per se – his district partner included – but he does care about his competition. Districts Two and Four are usually the ones to look out for, but sometimes the other districts hold surprises as well.

Sting hates surprises. In the Games, that's what gets people killed. So it is only natural that he wants to avoid them as much as possible.

He is barely able to contain his excitement as he clicks through the channels. This is the moment where he'll be able to size up his fellow tributes. There seriously can't be anything better than this.

He pauses once he reaches the proper channel, and almost as if he's afraid he might change the station if he holds it any longer, he tosses the remote aside.

"You can't possibly be serious?" Minerva drawls as she settles beside him. She opens her mouth to say something else but Sting tunes her out almost immediately. He should have just gone to his room and watched the reapings there.

"You would do well to follow his example," Jiemma, one of their mentors, comments. He settles on the opposite end of the sofa and faces the screen, the conversation apparently over.

Sting shoots a glance at Minerva, then at the older man. He doesn't need to be a genius to know that there is some friction between those two, but oh well.

They're not his problem anyway.

He turns back to the television right as the national anthem ends and District 1's emblem flashes on the screen.

He can't help but smile at how feral he looks. He bets sponsors are already lining up for him- and Minerva as well. He's never been the jealous type, and one's got to give credit where credit is due, so yes. He admits that she does look deadly in her own right. However, he isn't about to fool himself with notions of camaraderie because he knows he'll have to watch out for her in the Games. No need to get stabbed in the back right before the final battle, or the first one.

The next ones to appear on screen are District 2, and Sting is instantly impressed by the red-haired woman. She looks like the type who'd cut you down without a second thought simply because you ate the last piece of her favorite cake. The man doesn't seem so dangerous but if the silence in the square is anything to go by, then he most definitely is someone to be afraid of. The tattoo on his face is also something one doesn't see every day… so okay, fine. He really has to look out for that one too.

District 3, as expected, produces nothing but weaklings. A little girl whose sole mission seems to be crying her eyes out and a boy who has most definitely already accepted his death? Ha, he'd see to them first as soon as the Games begin.

Like 2, the tributes from District 4 are going to be dangerous. The girl looks like she could barely give a crap about those around her, and the boy – who's shirtless for God knows what reason – both look strong. It would most definitely be in his best interest if they made an alliance as soon as possible. It would be a good way to outmaneuver the red woman from District 2.

The rest of the reapings pass by in a blur, but the ones who manage to catch his eye are the muscled, blond from Five – _"Both his father and grandfather are victors, so you two would do well to watch out for him."_ – the crazy-looking blond from Seven, Jack-something, and the dark-haired, piercing-covered boy from Eleven. He looked like he'd been through his fair share of street fights.

Sting has all but zoned out until District 12's reaping dissolves into chaos.

His eyes widen as this… this… maniac, knocks his own brother out cold right after volunteering for him. For added effect, the camera pans in on his bloodthirsty smile and stays fixated on him for a full-blown ten seconds. The kid looks honest-to-God delighted to be in the Games.

Sting can't help but smile too. It's infectious, really. The kid is bat-shit insane, one more to watch out for.

Like seriously, who the hell does that?

* * *

 **District 1, Female Tribute**

Minerva sighs as she watches the reapings in silence next to Sting and Jiemma. She is so bored she's even considering using her father as target practice. She has no idea where her other mentors are, but she'd give anything to be with them instead. Even the most recent victor, Rogue, would be better company right now. Of course he doesn't have much experience considering he's only been a victor for two years, but he'd still be much more enjoyable than these two sour pusses.

The reapings are pathetic. The females are simply crying, the boys are pissing themselves, and asides from a handful of tributes, most of them are going to be the ones she kills right after the countdown timer goes to zero. So no.

She is not interested.

* * *

 **District 2, Female Tribute**

Erza goes straight to her room once she boards the train. She is in no mood to speak or see or smell anyone right now, so it makes perfect sense that as soon as she's finished declaring that she'll maul anyone who dares knock on her bedroom door, Jellal pokes his head through the crack and offers her that stupid smile of his.

Damn him.

If only he knew he's the last person she wants to see.

* * *

 **District 2, Male Tribute**

"You really shouldn't frown like that. Your face might stick that way." Jellal has just finished watching the reapings with his mentors, Brain and Cobra, and he's hoping to fill her in, and possibly cheer her up in the process.

It doesn't work.

"Get out."

Undeterred, he settles beside her on the bed and continues, "Our mentors and I just finished watching the recap. You should have seen it. One and Four are pretty tough. I think you should make an alliance with them once you get a chance." He stares at her from his peripheral, but she still seems determined to ignore him. "It also looks like Five, Seven and Eleven are going to be hard to beat so I guess you could try allying with them too. The tributes from Nine are wild cards, so I'm not quite sure about them but it wouldn't hurt to be on the lookout. And you wouldn't believe it but-"

Erza glares at him. "Stop it."

"What?"

"You keep saying 'you'."

Jellal furrows his brows. "What?"

Her glare intensifies. "You're saying 'you', not 'we'. Cut it out."

Jellal blinks. He hadn't even noticed, and honestly, he has no idea what to say to that.

Luckily for him, he doesn't have to because Erza is not done yet. "Listen Jellal, I have no idea what went through that brain of yours when _you_ of all people, decided to volunteer, but if you think I have no idea what it is you're doing then you've got another thing coming. I'm not going to sit back and let you throw your life away, do you understand?"

He blinks again.

"I said, do you understand?" She repeats, a little louder but a lot more frightening.

Jellal nods, rather reluctantly at that, and sighs. After a moment, he lies down on the mattress and stares at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He'd already learned his lesson years ago; unless he is willing to go through one hell of a beating, he should keep his mouth shut. Things have taken an unexpected turn- and though he knows he should have expected it from Erza, it still comes as a surprise to him.

"So," she begins as she finally lies down next to him, "you were saying?"

It takes him a few seconds to remember what it was he was talking about before she started scolding and yelling at him as if he were a child. "I was saying that, it looks like Eight and Twelve have pretty dangerous tributes this year."

"Twelve?" The incredulity in her voice is a perfect reflection of how Jellal felt when he first saw the boy.

"Yes. Quite shocking, right?" He says, turning onto his side so he can face her. "He's a volunteer. It appears that his brother was the one reaped but since he refused to let him go, the kid just punched him straight in the face. The guy was sent flying, but what's even more shocking is that the kid's arm caught fire when he attacked."

Erza asks, turning so she is facing him as well. "A fire user? In District 12?"

"I couldn't believe it either. And it looks like he's pretty close with his District partner," he states, remembering the one-armed embrace Twelve had pulled his partner into, "so I guess you, I mean, we, shouldn't attack either of them without a plan."

Erza smirks. "Of course. It would be an insult to our district if we were to be killed by Twelves."

"It could happen." He says with a careless shrug.

Erza remains quiet for a few seconds before she levels him with a stare so serious he's instantly reminded of their time back in the training academy.

"Not on my watch."

* * *

 **District 3, Male Tribute**

Hibiki is scared. He has been for the past few hours and he has no idea when or if he's going to get over it.

The only thing that's stopping him from having a total breakdown is his district partner, Wendy.

She is small, she is young, and she is terrified.

He's always been taught to be a gentleman, so seeing a female cry is definitely messing him up.

"There, there," he begins, bending down to his knees so he's eye-level with her. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be crying."

She doesn't stop, but her sobs do appear to be decreasing.

"Now, come on." He continues, "Do you really want your sponsors to see you crying once we reach the Capitol?"

"I don't have any sponsors."

"What? Of course you do. Plenty of people are already signing up under your name." He says with exuberance. "So please stop crying. I don't want them to think I hit you. Who knows, they might gang up on me and beat me to a bloody pulp."

This seems to draw a smile from her, and Hibiki inwardly relishes the little victory.

At least something has gone right today.

* * *

 **District 3, Female Tribute**

Wendy knows Hibiki is lying to her just to cheer her up. She doesn't have sponsors lining up for her. She doesn't have anyone who really wants her back home except for maybe her family and the few friends she's managed to acquire during her short life.

She isn't going to win, but if some miracle were to happen, she wouldn't mind it if Hibiki won.

He's genuinely a good person and it would be a shame if he got killed in the Games.

* * *

 **District 4, Female Tribute**

Juvia decides to watch the reapings in her room.

Her district partner will be watching it outside with their mentors, however she doesn't feel up to sitting with them when she knows for sure that none of them want her back alive. After all, her return means Gray's death.

Fiore's national anthem has just begun when she hears a knock on her door. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Can I come in?"

Juvia was startled for a second. What could Gray possibly want from her at such a time? She doesn't have to worry herself over that though because soon enough, he is explaining himself.

"Juvia, right? I'm sorry but can I watch the reapings in here? Mom– I mean, Ul and everyone else out there just can't stay quiet. Seriously, if I hear about having to make sure I have enough water in the arena one more time, I might just start killing people on the train."

"Well, at least they're giving you advice. Juvia thinks you should be happy." She says as she points at the empty spot beside her on the bed. She isn't angry or jealous about it because she really does understand her mentors' positions. She just wishes that they'd be a little more inclined to give her advice too.

Gray settles down but doesn't respond to her.

That's okay though.

Juvia knows he sees the truth in her words.

* * *

 **District 4, Male Tribute**

Gray remains silent as the replay begins. He's never been much of a talker, and after Juvia's oh-so-casual comment about his family - no, their mentors' he reminds himself - disregard for her, he isn't really in the mood to start up a conversation anytime soon. Of course they all expect him to win, but do they really have to be so obvious about it?

It wouldn't hurt to give this girl a little hope in the last days of her life anyway.

"District 1 looks crazy." He says instead, once the blond boy stands up on stage. He studies the dark-haired female who'd just volunteered and sighs. "And strong. They're going to be serious competition for us."

Juvia nods. "Yes, but Juvia thinks they can easily be taken down. They're too bloodthirsty, they won't be working together for very long, just look at their body language. It will not surprise Juvia if they end up killing each other instead."

Gray pauses, then stares at Juvia for a full seven seconds before he decides to give it a second shot. For someone who doesn't talk much, she was pretty insightful. "What about Two?"

"They're hard to explain, but Juvia thinks they'll be far more dangerous than One. Juvia can't exactly put her finger on it but there's just something about those two that seems... off."

Gray nods, accepting her explanation. He'd sensed that too. "Yeah, they don't exactly look like the regular types from Two." With that said, they fall into a comfortable silence, which is only broken once the male from Five – _Juvia thinks we should avoid this Laxus guy at all costs_ – the male from Seven – _Juvia thinks Jackal-san is a lunatic. We should kill him first_ \- the tributes from Nine – _That boy reminds Juvia of a lion. Maybe he and his partner have a plan?_ – and the pair from Twelve – _Juvia thinks those two are unpredictable. Especially that crazy fire boy_.

Once the commentary is over, Juvia turns away from the television and regards Gray. "The males from Eight and Eleven seem dangerous as well. I think we should observe them during training. Just to be safe."

Gray racks his brain, trying to remember who she could possibly be referring to. District 8- what was his name again? Bachi? Bachu, maybe? Yeah, that's probably it. And who the fuck was from District 11?

Ah, yes. Piercings.

Nodding, he stands up and heads to the door. "You're right. We should keep them in mind."

He turns the knob, but pauses. "Juvia, if you want," he has no idea what he's saying at this point but he just hopes it's the right thing, "we could train together from now on. You know, just so we're both prepared in the arena."

The shocked expression on Juvia's face, and the small smile that graces her lips once his offer has sunk in is what assures him that he's done the right thing.

* * *

 **District 5, Male Tribute**

In Laxus' humble opinion, the only good thing about this whole fiasco is the ride to the Capitol- because really, even the wealth his family has managed to obtain over the years can barely compare to the train's luxury.

But apart from that, everything else sucks.

He is on his way to his room when he catches sight of Lucy, curled up on the living room sofa, sniffling and sobbing silently. He mentally debates on whether or not he should approach her, and after a few seconds, he decides against it.

Her eyes are red and puffed up, tears are streaming down her cheeks- okay, he's never been one for judging people's appearances but really, her face has seen better days.

He rolls his eyes. It's usually at times like these where people hug and give each other false assurances.

Too bad he doesn't do that shit.

"And where the hell do you think you're going, you damn brat?"

"None of your business, Gramps." Laxus all but growls as he turns to face his grandfather. The man is short, barely even reaching his shoulders; and his face is rough, both from worry and age-induced wrinkles, but he still manages to walk with the confidence and bearing of a man still capable of going off into war if need be.

"You can't possibly be planning to just leave her alone like that?"

Laxus stares at his grandfather for a few seconds, gaze incredulous, and mouth wide open.

No. Just no.

First up, crying girls just aren't his scene; and second, he really is not in the mood for this. "Listen, Gramps. I just got reaped. I might die within the next few weeks, and there's a high probability it's going to be pretty brutal." His grandfather doesn't seem fazed by his bluntness. Nonetheless, he continues, "What makes you think I'll be in the right state of mind to comfort anybody?"

He is too furious at this point to notice that Lucy's crying has ceased.

He turns around, ready to go to his room and stay there until they reach the Capitol, when his grandfather's calm voice cuts in, "If you brats want to survive these games, it would be in your best interests to listen to me."

This manages to stop him in his tracks.

"And listen to me well because if you so much as try to go in without a plan, you're toast."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Lucy asks in between hiccups, sitting upright for the first time since she got on-board the train. Apart from the sniffles escaping her, she seems to be seriously trying to hold her shit together and pay attention to his grandfather's words.

"Impress the Capitol."

"What?" Lucy's eyes widen. "Why?"

If he hadn't grown up hearing tales of how both his grandfather and father made it out of the arena alive, Laxus would have been in the same condition as well.

"If the Capitol loves you, your chances of staying alive increase exponentially." Laxus explains half-heartedly, eyes still trained on his grandfather. "The more they cheer for you, the more sponsors you get."

He then frowns. Just what angle was his grandpa playing at? Did he intend to make them both win?

"Exactly, the Gamemakers even go as far as keeping you alive as long as you provide them with a good show, and that's where we come in. There are already rumors about you two circling around the Capitol."

Laxus narrows his eyes. Rumors? "What kind of rumors, old man?"

"Why, that you two are related, of course." His grandfather even has the gall to smile as he says that.

Laxus resists the urge to groan.

Great, just what he needed.

* * *

 **District 5, Female Tribute**

Lucy is confused. Related? Her, and Laxus?

Wow. Whatever gave the people in the Capitol that idea?

Sure, they are blonde, but as far as she's concerned, that's more or less where the similarities end. They don't even know each other that well, and last time she checked, siblings needed to have a little more knowledge about one another.

"Say what now?" She asks, just in case she heard wrong.

"Listen here brats, it doesn't matter who you are in District 5, the moment your name was drawn, you became a tribute. A pawn in the Capitol's games. If you two want to have any chance of surviving, I suggest you pull yourselves together," Makarov shoots her a pointed look, "and work as a damn team."

"Team?" Laxus scoffs. "You make it sound like we have a chance of making it out together."

Lucy flinches. His words are true, but that doesn't make them any less painful.

Compared to him, she doesn't stand a chance in the arena. Apart from Celestial Magic, she has no special skills. She can't fight, she can't run, she can't hunt. Them working together meant Laxus having to carry responsibility for both of them in the arena. She can understand why he would get upset, but the hurt is still there.

"If we play this right, both of you could leave the arena alive." Makarov says rather carefully, and instantly, both Laxus and Lucy straighten up in attention. "But it's only going to work if you all just shut your damn traps and listen to me."

Makarov eyes them each sternly as if he expects one of them to argue with him. "This rumor is just what we needed. I don't know what went through your heads during the reapings, but your actions have seemed to start something that will do wonders for your image in the Capitol."

"We didn't do anything." Laxus says, a scowl firm in place.

"The silent looks, the small smiles, the hand squeezing. Oh, I noticed. And so did the Capitol." Makarov says. "Every time, you two come up on screen during the replays, there have to be questions thrown in about whether or not you two are related. I guess it does help that you two look somewhat similar."

Lucy is speechless. She didn't think she'd be memorable, let alone have people interested in her at all. But either way, she has to admit that siblings sent into the arena together is a pretty exciting story. No wonder people in the Capitol are going crazy over it.

"How is this even good for us?" She hears Laxus ask.

"Now this is the part where you sit your ass down and let me explain the damn plan."

As Lucy scoots over so Laxus can settle down next to her, she diligently prevents any feelings of excitement from showing on her face. If they pull it off, she just might make it home.

Maybe she really does have a chance after all.

* * *

 **A/N** : So... that's it for now. Next up, we'll have Natsu, Cana, Loke and the rest ^^

Oh, and please don't forget to leave a review before you go :D


End file.
